El Marinero
by Frannie1
Summary: Shameless romance between Joe Nagel and a Spanish lady from a shipwreck. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: So, having found out that Bryan Dick (Joseph Nagel in the movie) is going to be in a movie actually released in the United States, I'm quite excited. I've decided to write another story about him, since, to my great surprise, there are hardly any that even _mention _him. Shame. Shame upon you all. I also noticed a great many shameless romances. I might do that too. That seems to work out nicely. Does anyone besides me even _like _Nagel? I'd like to know that too.

Prologue

The waves crashed against the shoreline. She watched them from a distance, knowing in her heart she could never look at them the same way again. She could never see them as he had seen them. He had been a lover, but most importantly, he had been a friend. He had listened to her, had helped her. He had taken her under his wing and protected her at a time when no one else would. The salty air brought tears to her eyes. It had been such a short time, such a short and lovely time, but they would never meet again. She knew that for sure. What she didn't know was how she would ever live without him.

She folded her arms across her chest and let her dark hair whip in the wind as it would. A small boy was running along the beach, his white britches tattered from overuse and rough terrain. He was yelling, she realized, as he came closer. "_¡Paca, Paca! ¡Señorita, aquí!_" He was holding a large bottle in his hands, stopped with a cork. And inside was a rolled piece of parchment. "_¡ Los marineros!_"


	2. Chapter One

It had been a week since the _Surprise _had picked her up. She had been alone, a survivor of a great fire that had destroyed her transport. Most had gotten off of the ship alive, but when the fire reached the stores of gunpowder, many lives were lost. She had been separated from her family and they were assumed dead. The Santiago family came from Aragón, in Spain, and they were by no means wealthy, but they had enough to get by. Now Francisca Santiago had nothing, and according to Captain Aubrey, she would not be returned to Spain until they came across a ship that was heading for it. Otherwise it might be over a year before the _HMS Surprise_ docked in Spain.

"_Dios mío_," she prayed. "_Ayúdeme volver a casa, por favor_." She crossed herself and attempted to climb up into the hammock she had been designated to.

"You'll be near the Midshipmen," Captain Aubrey had told her. "If you need anything, they'll be happy to be of service."

_What I need is to get back to Spain_, she thought bitterly, reminded of the conversation they had had. _In Spain I am safe_. She looked around. Most of the crew was sleeping. She eyed them all suspiciously. It had taken the crew about two days to realize she was a woman, and then they pounced. Seamen were like that, though luckily none had done anything malicious yet. She closed her eyes and had almost fallen asleep when she heard a noise. She opened her eyes wide, trying to take in all the light that she could, and searched the room. A match was struck and a face was illuminated. She couldn't remember his name—truth be told, it wasn't that important to her. But she thought he might have been a carpenter.

He bent down to put on his shoes and the match went out. Her eyes strained in the darkness. He was walking towards her and as he got closer, in a sudden panic, she shut her eyes tightly, pretending to sleep. He didn't stop, however, but kept walking. When she felt he was far enough away, she climbed out of hammock with much difficulty, and went up on deck.

She stood for a long while out of sight. He hadn't seemed to notice her presence, when he suddenly turned around. "What are _you _doing up here?" Francisca didn't reply, merely standing still waiting for him to continue. "Can't sleep or something? Maybe you're a little seasick from all the rolling waves. Can you even speak English?"  
"Who are you?" she asked, finally speaking.

He gave her a hard look, continuing to coil the rope. When he had finished, he threw it onto the wooden planks. "Why do you want to know, miss?"

"It was just a question," she said waspishly. "If you do not wish to reply—"

"Joe."

"¿_Perdóname_?" she asked, slipping into her native tongue.

"My name is Joe Nagel," he repeated. "And you're Señorita Santiago, right?" he added mockingly. He gave her a surly look. "You shouldn't be up here so late. It's dangerous at night for a woman on a ship of war…no officers in sight, eh?"

"I know there is an officer of the watch," she said, looking over her shoulder. "I am perfectly safe. You know, the scream of a woman can be heard for leagues," she said pompously.

"I doubt that, milady." He started edging towards her. "We seamen get awfully lonely, you know." He leaned in to within inches of her face, staring into her eyes for what seemed to her like ages. Then with a smirk, he backed off, laughing softly. "You're all the same. You wealthy duchesses and ladies, expecting to get free passage like you're on some kind of luxury holiday. You're not as important as you think you are. I can guarantee that much."

"I never said I was anyone of importance," she said. "My name is Francisca Santiago de Aragón. My family is not wealthy—not as wealthy as you assume—but we are not poor either."

"That's all very well, miss." He started towards the ladder. "I'm—the crew isn't supposed to talk to you, actually."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you're a passenger," he said brusquely, climbing down to the berth deck.

"You may call me Paca," she called after him.

Suddenly his head popped up from the hatch. "Did you say somethin'?" Joe asked.

She put a hand on her chest. "Paca, call me Paca."

"_Pack-a_," he repeated.

She shook her head. "No, no, no. _Pah-cah_. Now you try."

He pulled himself up onto the deck again. "Why Paca?"

She frowned and averted her eyes. "My _papá _always called me that."  
Their eyes met and she saw a bit of pity in his face. "You say it right, now. That is all," she dismissed, walking past him. "I am very tired. Good night."

" 'Night, milady." He watched her go, and then leant against the taffrail, looking out at the vast ocean. "What are you _doing_? She's outta your league," he muttered to himself. He knew having a woman on board would be bad for the ship. The crew would be all over her. Slade had tried to charm her several times already. Joe had done his best to be unfriendly, to treat her like she was just another nobody, but she wasn't. She was a woman. And it had been too long since he had been this close to one.


	3. Chapter Two

_Dearest Jonathan,_

_I regret to inform you that I do not know how I can fulfill our engagement. On our way to England, our ship caught fire. It was destroyed. My family killed, I cannot marry with you. I know this will not please you but it is my choice and is final._

_Sincerely,_

_Francisca Santiago de Aragón_

"Lady Santiago?" She threw down her quill and whirled around. It was one of the lieutenants, that much she could tell. He had removed his hat, revealing his long, dark hair, which was tied back. "Sorry to disturb you, my lady, but Captain Aubrey would like to ask you—that is, to _invite _you, erm, to a kind of concert," he said with great difficulty and flushing cheeks.

"A concert?" she repeated.

"A musical concert," he clarified. "If you would follow me…"

"Oh, yes." Paca stood up. "There are musicians on this ship, then…Oh, I'm so sorry, but what is your name?"

"Thomas Pullings, my lady." He took her olive-skinned hand and brought it to his lips. "Actually, Captain Aubrey himself is a musician," he said, leading her on. "He plays the violin. Our Doctor Maturin often plays with him on the 'cello. I'm sure you'll enjoy it very much."

"Yes, I am sure I will." She followed him toward the Great Cabin. "Tomás." She smiled. "That was my brother's name. He went to the Americas when I was very young. I was hoping he would be able to come to my wedding, but I have not heard from him."

"Wedding?" He sounded a little disappointed. "You're married?"

"I was to be married, but I have decided not to," she explained. "I know your language because _he_ is in England. He wanted someone…I cannot remember the word—exotic, I think."

"But he wanted you to speak English," he said. "I'm sure he has plenty of English women to choose from. He shouldn't drag you from your home like you're property." He was silent for a moment, pondering whether he had said too much. "By the way, feel free to call me Tom."

For some reason, they had stopped walking, having not yet reached their destination. She looked up at him. "You may feel free…to call me Paca. There is no need for formalities, Tom."

He smiled. "Quite right, Paca."

"Mr. Pullings!"

Tom turned. "Captain, sir!" He gently pushed Paca forward. "Miss Santiago, sir."

"Once again, it is an honor to have you as our guest," Captain Aubrey said, bowing slightly. She returned the gesture. As he led her away, Paca glanced back at Tom, who grinned and winked at her. "So, my dear, do you like Bach or Boccherini?"

She awoke very late the next morning, having stayed up half the night drinking and talking with Captain Aubrey and Tom. Doctor Maturin had gone to bed, claiming he was exhausted. She rubbed her aching head, climbing out of the hammock. She clumsily rolled out and landed on the floor. She moaned in pain, trying to stand up. Paca felt her cheeks flushing as blood rushed to her head, and she clamped a hand to her mouth, about to be sick. She rushed up the steps and onto the quarterdeck, found the nearest railing, and vomited off the side. She coughed and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

"All right, Paca?" She looked up at Joe from the floor. She didn't speak, but shielded her eyes from the glaring sun. "Look, me and some of the boys 'ave somethin' for you." He turned and called, "Slade! Give it here." He handed Joe a bucket. "This'll make you feel much better." He held the wooden bucket over her head and turned it upside down.  
Paca screamed as the cold water drenched her from head to toe. Then she started speaking very rapidly in Spanish, cursing and spitting, and flailing her arms about.

When she had calmed down, Joe offered her his hands. "Come 'ere, now. Let me help you up." She looked down, avoiding eye contact and occasionally wiping her face with a wet hand. "So, how d'you feel now?"

She looked him straight in the eye, then, and slapped him hard across the face. "I have never been so—so—so—"

"Humiliated?" Slade suggested.

"--so _humiliated _in all my life!" Paca finished. She bundled up her sopping dress and marched away.

Joe rubbed his jaw and Slade laughed. "Not makin' any points, are you?" Joe wasn't listening. He watched her explaining what happened animatedly to Lieutenant Pullings. He bit his lip when the lieutenant turned to look at him. Instead of coming over, Pullings wrapped a blanket around her and led her away.

"Bloody 'ell," Joe muttered. He looked to Slade. "It was a joke!" Slade shrugged and got on with his duties.

Paca sniffled, sipping at her tea. Tom looked concerned. "Are you sure you don't want me to say anything to Captain Aubrey? Mr. Nagel will be punished for this, I assure you."

She shook her head. "I do not wish to see him hurt. He is only teasing me." She finished her tea. "Thank you, Tom. I am very grateful for your kindness."

She stood up and moved toward the door. "Paca, before you go…there is something I've been meaning to give to you." He stepped closer, and, tilting her head upwards with his finger, kissed her gently.

She backed away. "Tom—Señor Pullings, what are you doing?"

His cheeks flushed. "I'm terribly sorry, miss. I'd better get back to my duties." He started out, but she caught his arm.

"Tom, I don't need a lover, I need a friend," she said gently. He put his hat back on, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "But I do appreciate your kindness."

"Yes, well, you can rest here if you like," he offered. "I'll make sure no one bothers you."

"Thank you," she said, sitting down. He was nearly out the door when she pulled out a letter. "Oh, Tom, could you see that this is mailed?"

"Certainly," he replied stiffly, and left the room, closing the door behind him. "Friend," he muttered. "I have plenty of friends…and they're all men," he added in disappointment. Why had she backed away?

Paca frowned, not quite knowing why. She had found the kiss pleasant and warming, but it wasn't enough. Tom was a wonderful and kind man, but she believed in more than that. He had to be honorable, daring, and courageous. But perhaps Tom was all of those things, and she had simply never seen them. She had only been on the _Surprise _for a few weeks. Paca thought of Joe, then. He wasn't any of those things, as far as she could tell, the least of all honorable. All the same, she couldn't help thinking of him. She lay down and closed her eyes. A short nap would do her good.


	4. Chapter Three

Author's Note: It has been brought to my attention by a reviewer that I am spelling Nagel's name wrong. I'd just like to state here and now that I am not. I happened at first to prefer the book spelling to the movie one. Rather than changing it in every story, I think I'll just stick with _Nagel_. You might also notice that I spell Faster Doodle in the manner of the book as well. It's just a preference thing. I'm not trying to be a jerk, I just wanted to make sure everyone's on the same page. I haven't read many of the books, but I made sure I read _Far Side of the World_.

A soft rapping at the door woke Paca. She ignored it, but it only came again and again. "It's Joe. Please, Paca, I don't have much time."

She thought a moment, and then said in a bored tone, "Fine. Come in."

Joe slipped inside with a lantern in hand and closed the door. He didn't seem to want to look her in the eye. "Look," he began, setting the lantern down on the table, "I'm sorry I poured water on you. It was only in fun—honest."

"A _real _gentleman would take off his hat," she said coldly, as if she hadn't heard a word he had said. "Like Tom," she added pointedly.

"Lieutenant Pullings?" He finally met her gaze. "You fancy 'im, don't you? That's what this is—I knew there was something going on." He was angry. "Fine. You're much better suited for each other—a wealthy man'll suit you just fine, won't 'e?"

"Joe, stop it," she said, frustrated when he continued to rant and rave. "I do not love Tom, but he has been kind to me, which is more than I can say for you." He looked down guiltily. "I told him not to punish you."

"Thank you." He smiled sheepishly. "So…what now?"

She smiled and her eyes lit up. "I have an idea." She rushed to the door and called out, "Don Killick!" Within half an hour they had delivered to them a wonderful meal. Joe hadn't eaten so well in his entire life.

"Do you have a sweetheart?" Paca asked, pouring another glass of wine.

"Not yet," he replied, smiling, clearly drunk. "I had one back 'ome, but when I signed up for this…Well, she understood I might sooner die than get back to England." He put down the glass and moved closer to her. "Did I tell you how beautiful you are yet?"

"No, you did not," she said slowly.

"I've never seen a woman as lovely as you." He kissed her, and then backed away, waiting for her response.

She closed her eyes and said softly, "_Bésame_, Joe."

"Eh?"

"Kiss me!" Their second kiss was more passionate and they only broke apart so Joe could tear off his shirt. "Do you think we should be doing this?" she asked between kisses, as they both tried to remove her bodice.

"Why not?" He kissed her now-bare shoulder.

"Lieutenant Pullings," she replied.

He stopped and leant in close to her face. "Lieutenant who?" Their lips met once again, this time with more fervor than before.

Suddenly her eyes widened and she pulled away, seeing something he did not. "What?" he questioned just before he was pulled away from her by the waist of his pants. His shirt lay strewn on the floor with many of Paca's clothing.

"Lady Santiago!" Tom exclaimed. She grabbed her shirt, attempting to cover herself; they had managed to get all the way down to her corset. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Just a bit of fun, sir," Joe answered, not sure how to respond.

Tom pointed a menacing finger at his. "_You're _in enough trouble already, Nagel, now, keep quiet!"

"Lieutenant Pullings, try to understand—" Paca pleaded.

"No, no, I understand," he said heatedly. "I understand we picked up a harlot, and not a lady. The captain _will _hear of this. You can be sure of that." He slammed the door shut.

Paca looked to Joe desperately. "I don't understand. What did we do wrong?"

Joe put his shirt back on. "I'm not supposed to even go near ye, Paca, let alone make love to you," he said worriedly. He sat down, biting his nails. "I'll be flogged," he said at length.

She shook her head. "Flogged? What does this mean?"

"Whipped," he said. "They tie you up and hit you with a whip made of rope. It stings like hell." He forced a weak smile, and then looked concerned again. "You'd better go before the captain comes."

She nodded quickly and slipped out of the room.


	5. Chapter Four

Author's Note: Well, I've finished the story. I'm sorry the next couple chapters are so short. I felt I've said all I want to, but it didn't flow nicely as one chapter. I did combine the epilogue and last chapter for obvious reasons. I hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Lieutenant Pullings gently pushed her aside. "You don't want to see this, Miss Santiago." When she started to protest, he said more forcefully, "Get below deck. This is not something a lady should see."

"So, now I'm a lady? Not a whore anymore, Tom?" she asked irately. "What's changed now?"

Tom looked flustered, trying to persuade her. "Please, Paca! You mustn't stay here!"

"I want to see him!" she cried.

Some of the crew glanced over their shoulders at them, talking quietly amongst themselves. Tom took her arm and pulled her aside, further from the gathering crewmen. "Don't you know what flogging is?"

She nodded. "Joe told me. I know what is going to happen to him," Paca said desperately, "and I don't want him to be alone!"

"He won't want you there!" Tom insisted. "Trust me," he said in softer tones. He paused, taking a breath, and said with difficultly, "No man would want his sweetheart to see him this way."

Paca nodded again. "All right. I will go below." Tom heaved a sigh of relief when she disappeared from sight. He placed his hat on his head and walked back to Captain Aubrey.

She sat alone on the berth deck, listening to Joe's screams. It was all Tom's fault. He hadn't had to say anything to the captain. He could have kept his mouth shut. At that moment, she wished he was dead.

Suddenly the cabin was filled with shouting. The men were calling out, and she strained her ears to make out what they were saying. "Sail ahoy!" she managed to pick out. Quickly, Paca went up on deck, curious. She couldn't see Joe. "They're Spanish, sir!" the same man called out again. The crowd parted and she met Joe's eyes. Spanish…perhaps they were bound for Spain? Her head was filled with wild thoughts of returning home. She would find her grandparents and tell them what had happened. She would be home. Joe's gaze was mournful and she suddenly knew what he was thinking, because the same thought had entered her mind.


	6. Chapter Five and Epilogue

"Will I ever see you again?" Joe asked, caressing her hands, unable to look her in the eye.

Paca's eyes were filled with tears, though she was trying not to cry. "I don't know." She pulled a hand away to wipe her cheeks with a handkerchief.

"Hurry, Paca." It was Tom. He had come to see her off. "Captain Aguilar is getting anxious to set sail."

She nodded at him, sniffling. "If you are ever in my country, please find me." With that, she threw her arms around him. "_Te quiero, _Joe," she murmured into his shoulder.

"I love you too," he said softly, stroking her hair. "Go."

She stepped onto the gangplank carefully, holding Tom's hand. Before continuing, she turned to him and said, "Thank you for your kindness, Tom." He nodded, watching her walk across.

Joe stood still, his eyes on the ship until it was out of sight. He had never met anyone quite like her and would miss her terribly. Someone squeezed his shoulder. "C'mon, mate." He turned and, with a last glance at the faint sails on the horizon, followed the crewman down to the berth deck.

Epilogue

Paca's hands shook as she uncorked the bottle and unrolled the parchment. "It's from him," she murmured.


End file.
